Team Forretress 2
by xXSpiritKeeperXx
Summary: Life runs pretty smoothly, generally. Except when the gods of Time and Space take in interest in your world, and then like it so much they completely turn your life upside down. Why would you use metal and wooden tools when you can harness the very elements? There is always a price though; memory and sanity are priceless, and to lose to instinct is to lose yourself... T because TF2
1. Prologue

Oh look **another** thing I should really apologise to you all for the massive gap there's bound to be between each chapter. I should also really stop starting my fics like this UGH. Guess what this was inspired by.

**Don't own anything except my art**

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_I found another interesting one._

_Another good what?_

_Another good world. Obviously. What do you think we're looking for?_

_Oh. What's it like?_

_Another one of these "Earth" variations that the Crossroads souls feel so keen on making._

_Really? Hm._

_It's not the same time as the others, though._

_By how much?_

_... About [REDACTED]. They'd say forty-five years._

_Tell me what's so special about it._

_There's this one man, he wears a skull like Houndoom on his head. And he can control space in a limited manner. Transformations and such._

_But why the Torn is it so special?!_

_Be quiet. Giratina wouldn't like to hear you swear on her realm._

_Alright. But _please_ tell-_

_There are nine sets of clones. They _were_ nine separate people. They have the same backstories, the same lives, they even lived in the same places - but with a glitch in space-time that I noticed some point ago... [REDACTED], in fact... They separated into different entities and now fight each other over... gravel. Of all things._

_This world? Why this one?_

_Because of the glitch. You know how I love a good glitch in the very fabric of what we created, it's fun seeing the results. Also, many smaller deviations branch off and join to the Crossroads, copies of the whole that the Crossroads souls perhaps modified to fit their... let me see... headcanons, they call them._

_Head cannons? What the Torn?_

_THEORIES THEY INVENTED, YOU IMBECILE._

_... Oh._

_Heh heh... Let's mess with them._

_Why?_

_Because it'll be fun._

_What will you do? Modify their bodies?_

_Why not?_

_You should really be careful, though. You don't want a repeat of that Nanite incident._

_Ugh... never. Never. For anything. Of course._

_Alright, I'll do the modification, you speed up the change._

_Sure._

* * *

The RED Sniper stretched in his perch as the Announcer broadcast their victory. It felt nice, winning. He could already hear Scout's whoops and Soldier's triumphant bellowing that "THE TEAM DID A GOOD JOB" and "WE WILL CELEBRATE TONIGHT". Heavy's minigun suddenly spat a few rounds into some unfortunate BLU that was caught in humiliation.

Sniper sheathed his kukri in his quiver and walked down the hidden pathways to the Resupply room of Teufort. Heavy lumbered in with his gore-spattered minigun and a yellow helmet in hand. So he'd gotten the Engineer. As the rest of the team filed in, an electronic buzz signaled the start of ceasefire.

"'Hey Legs!" Scout called, sprinting to Sniper and clapping him on the back. "Thanks for gettin' dat cyclops for me! I'd-a been sent to Respawn for sure! That's fifteen minutes of pain I do _not_ want to go through."

Sniper smiled. "It happens to all of us, mate. Although that doesn't make it any more fun."

Scout tweaked his hat and flicked off a sliver of bloody cloth. "Yeah, yeah. I know, jeez. I dibs on the first showers!" he called, sprinting down the hallway suddenly and almost slamming into the far wall when he tried to turn a corner. Sniper smiled and shook his head. There was no real need to 'get first showers' as they all had an open shower anyway. Maybe he wanted the hot water or the soap. Not that he would hold it without an iron grip if Spy was ever around.

After all the classes had washed the day's blood, soot and grime off themselves, Engineer and Pyro went about making dinner. Some kind of roast. Engineer had volunteered them both to go after Demo on Medic's cooking and cleaning roster, due to the Scot's unfortunate habit of making every dish look and taste like haggis no matter what he set out to cook in the first place.

Sniper walked into the kitchen and sniffed the air, the smell of cooking meat and salt and potatoes wafting throughout the room. His mouth watered. "Hey mate, how long d'ya think it'll take to make?" Sniper asked Engie.

"Howdy Slim... maybe an hour. We got four chickens, two bags-a potatoes - you know how much food we all pack away after a good round," Engie grinned and watched Pyro slide another tray into the oversized oven and then pause; the heating elements were a beautiful, glowing red. "There's some vegetables here that need doing. Think ya could help me with those? Come on Pyro, you can't stand there forever, the heat'll escape." Pyro huffed in indignation but closed the oven door anyway.

Sniper grinned back at his friend and walked to the kitchen bench. "Sure thing, mate. Whaddya want me to do?"

Engineer handed Sniper a knife and chopping board and said, "Just cut these up into manageable chunks," pointing to some carrots and eggplants. "Pyro and I'll do the pumpkin."

"Mmrph mrph mrufmurr, hudda!" Pyro said enthusiastically, clapping its hands together and trotting to the bench to help with its task. They began work in amicable silence, with the occasional exchanged word of advice or check on the chickens to pour the oil in the trays back over the top to keep them moist. The work, despite being with food, kept Sniper's mind off his stomach, however Scout did not have anything to stave off his hunger and had to be shooed out of the kitchen every now and again.

Finally, a little more than the estimated hour passed and the food was ready. Pyro called out to the waiting team, who didn't understand a single word but got the gist of it. Heavy roared enthusiastically, Scout groaned out 'finally' among other unprintable words and Soldier bellowed out how it "TOOK THEM LONG ENOUGH TO MAKE A SIMPLE DINNER".

All grumblings were forgotten when Demo procured some beers from nowhere and freely handed them out. The smell of roast food and beer filled the room and the enthusiastic, drunken, multi-lingual singing of Demo, Heavy, Medic, Soldier and Scout succeeded in lifting the roof off the base.

It was a good night.

Sniper trudged to his campervan well towards midnight, Engineer and Pyro telling him he didn't have to help with the washing up and that he could bunker down. Well, Engie did most of the talking and Pyro did most of the friendly gesturing. Either way, Sniper got some much-wanted rest, as tomorrow would hold another fight.

Sniper took off his vest, shoes, sunglasses, and Akubra before clambering into the tiny bed in his van, the combination of chirping crickets, good food and general exhaustion lulling him to sleep almost instantly.

Somewhere in another dimension two snickering deities started their work.

* * *

What are nanites? Maybe it's because all my fics happen in the same universe, ie. they happen in the same space-time line. Crossroads = IRL because all the other worlds we create join up here, amirite? :D

Thanks to ChaosAndMayhem for beta!


	2. Fur and Scales, Types and Tails

Chapter one, because the prologue is a bit Pokemon-less for my tastes. I already had this one stored, expect a wait before the next chapter comes, I'm so gomen :U

**SPIRIT used DISCLAIMER! It's super effective!**

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Route 1: Fur and Scales, Types and Tails

* * *

A small alarm clock blared indignantly to the world that people were still sleeping. Sniper groaned and put out a hand to switch it off, yawning loudly. He pushed himself groggily out of the bed, his tree-like, scaly tail rustling as it scraped off the bed in his wake.

_Wait a bloody second..._

His voice died in his throat as he looked back and saw the palm-like tail sweeping the floor and the six bright yellow seeds growing on his bare back and the vibrant shade of scaly green his skin appeared to have become, decorated with strong red strips. He also appeared to have no clothes on.

Sniper forgot what he was about to say. Instead he shrugged and donned his vest, Akubra and yellow aviators, looking at the long, skinny pants in confusion. Adjusting his hat, Sniper walked quite happily over to the base, whistling a mish-mash of something by the Beatles and swishing his tail in time to the beat.

Scout was already up – _up_, compared to _knocked out_ – when Sniper entered the main base. Scout's doglike snout was hidden under his cap, the vibrant red and warm yellow fur assaulting the bland, colourless room in blatant rebellion. His bipedal canine body structure draped itself gracelessly over the sofa, the bone spikes jutting from his chest and the backs of his hands reflecting the early morning light. He loosely held his headset in his right hand.

"Good mornin', princess," Sniper teased.

Scout's snout twitched and he slowly lifted his cap up to reveal a mask-like pattern of black fur banding around sleep-drugged eyes, bloodshot from a hangover. "Shut up man, whaddya doin'?" he said. Sniper smirked at his being 'up' but still half-asleep.

"Coming in for breakfast. What else?" Sniper said good-naturedly.

Scout pushed himself off the sofa and stretched. His thighs gave the impression of shorts. "I already had a can o' Bonk a while ago," he trudged to the kitchen and opened the fridge, scanning for leftover meat. The contents were neatly labelled and in good condition from Heavy's love of good food, Medic's fairly obsessive-compulsive need for order despite his train wreck of a medical bay and Engineer's habit to label everything. Scout _hmmed_ happily and pulled out some of the newly labelled chicken. "Hey man, y'want some?"

Somewhere at the back of Sniper's mind the idea of eating meat disgusted him. "Nah, I'll have some of them vegies."

Similarly, the idea of eating nothing but vegetables disgusted the Scout on a subconscious level. "You can have 'em, I don't want 'em," Scout said, crinkling his nose and pulling the cling wrap off.

Sniper moved to the fridge himself, the thought of carrots and pumpkins and half a lettuce a delightful idea. When he was done rummaging, Scout waved his hand at the fridge door, a reddish-white aura enveloping it and making it swing shut, like he'd been doing it the entire time he was at the base.

At that moment Engineer walked in and Medic not-so-walked in, instead hovering along using two hummingbird-speed wings on his back. Medic was only a foot and a half tall, his head, adorned with three crown-like sweeping fins, large compared to his body, which had an eggshell texture and was decorated with small red triangles on the lower half. Engineer, a green and red dragon-cross-dragonfly. Two long antennae swept backwards from his head; transparent red dome eyeguards replaced his goggles. Two large diamond shaped green wings edged in red trailed on the floor with a tail banded cactus green. He wore his work apron. "Mornin' Slim," he said, as Medic floated to the cupboard and pulled out a saucer before moving to Scout and taking a piece of chicken. Scout growled indignantly but let it be.

"Morning Truckie," Sniper replied.

Nobody found their transformations odd. Two troublemaking deities were responsible for that, too.

"How're ya going to fight today? Go up into your nest like usual?" Engineer asked, scratching the base of one antenna.

Sniper thought for a moment. "Nah, I'll get into the field with m' Huntsman and m' Jarate. I'm in the mood for up-and-close combat today." Sniper rolled his shoulders and the palm-like fronds on his tail jittered in anticipation. He grinned.

Engineer shrugged, tail swishing lightly. "Sounds mighty fine to me. I'll try an' get a sentry up at the top of the stairs to the Intel, an' a Dispenser down in the sewers." He looked at the nearly-wordless fight between Scout and Medic, the former growling and trying to do keep-away with the chicken from Medic, who was easily darting around and nabbing pieces of meat from Scout in his half-drunken state. "Y'think Scout'll have gotten over that alcohol by the time the battle starts?" Engie asked.

Sniper took a large bite from the lettuce, his beak-like mouth leaving perfectly sharp cuts. "Yeah," he said around the food, "He'll be fine. Y'know how quick he gets over that Bonk drink's downtime." He swallowed and took another huge bite, chomping through the stalk and young, yellowish leaves.

Scout finally put the plate on the table and covered it protectively with his arms - but Medic just floated down beside him, saucer piled with bits and pieces of meat. He smirked. "Herr Scout, you need to be more observant," Medic scolded, tut-tutting at him.

Scout blinked in confusion and uncovered the plate in his arms. Sure enough, most of the good meat was gone from the top and sides, leaving wingtips and a skeleton. Sniper burst out laughing. "Hey, no fair! Give it back!" Scout shouted, pawing at Medic. Medic clucked his tongue again and hovered up to sit on top of a shelf, picking up a piece of meat and nibbling at it. "_Nein_, it is rude to be selfish, vhy von't you share breakfast vith a fellow teammate?"

Scout's eyes flared red as he growled, the meat glowing the same colour. Medic hardly had time to blink before they flew through the air, slapped the guffawing Sniper in the face and landed with considerable force on the plate which they originated from. "'Cause I got 'em first, four eyes," he said smugly, lifting a different piece to his mouth and swallowing it whole.

Medic glowered at Scout, lifting up one hand and waving it rhythmically back and forth.

"I'll come back later," Engineer said as a forceful torrent of water came jetting from in front of Medic and into Scout's face.

Sniper nodded. "I'll go with ya," he said, bundling the vegetables into his hands and walking out as there were sounds of a shelf being damaged and a hung over Lucario getting beaten by a Togetic using Metronome. At the end of the fight Medic had most of the chicken and Scout had sopping wet fur, paralyzing pollen covering every inch of his body and a black eye.

Sniper and Engineer walked in amiable silence towards the common room. The room had a small TV attached to a brace on the wall, a fairly decrepit couch in the middle of a plain planked floor and a painting of a palm tree slightly askew on the wall to the right of the doorway, in between two bookshelves devoid of anything except dust and cobwebs.

In the middle of a few empty brown glass bottles on the floor in front of the sofa lay a black, bone-decorated hound, a half empty bottle of alcohol lying next to one twitching paw. Its muzzle was dark orange red and two curling, ram-like horns corkscrewed from where its ears should be.

"Oh yer in fer it..." It mumbled suddenly. "I'm going ta blow you up so bad, yer great-grandmother'll... 'n then I'll get yer gibs and yer ribs an' feed 'em to Nessie..." It snored, pawing at the air in sleep in a clumsy imitation of a punch, head lolling to the side to reveal an eye patch over the left eye. The set of rib-like bones over its back scraped hollowly against the floor.

Engineer glanced at Sniper. "You think we should wake 'im up?"

"Can I do it?" Sniper said, clawing his fingers and smiling evilly.

Engineer's eyes widened skeptically. "That's fairly unlike you. You sure nothing's up?"

Sniper backed up and frowned, thinking. "Pretty sure nothing's wrong. I did feel a little off this –"

Demoman leapt up into the air suddenly, howling about sea monsters and explosives and how much beer he managed to scull on his twenty-first birthday before he threw up. Sniper and Engineer jumped back in alarm with cries of "Gah!" and "Piss!" Demoman glared about the room drunkenly, kicking a few empty bottles and bumping into the couch. He then staggered right, put his head down, gave a mighty battle cry and charged Engineer. Engineer didn't leap out of the way in time and got barrelled over, lying on the floor with the wind knocked out of him. Sniper grabbed Demo's right horn and swung him back round, the now-Houndoom slamming against the wall and yelping.

"The bloody hell was that for?!" Sniper shouted at him. Demo blinked, then grinned sheepishly and leaned against the wall, nursing a bruised shoulder. "Ah, Ah'm sorry you had ter see me do that."

Engineer groaned, shaking his head to get his vision back to normal. "You're way too drunk, son," he said, pushing himself to his feet and glaring daggers at Demo. "Get that booze out of your system, there's a fight in two hours."

Demoman smiled and blinked woozily. "Really? I'd bettah get going then, eh?" And with that he wobbled out of the room, throwing mumbled apologies over his shoulder.

Engineer sighed. "One of these days Demo's gonna keel over dead of alcohol poisoning."

Sniper laughed once harshly. "Thousand bucks says he doesn't."

"You have no way of knowing that." Engineer smiled.

"Then a thousand bucks says he falls over drunk tonight."

"That ain't fair! Of course he will!"

Sniper laughed again. "Yeah mate, that's the point!" His tail flicked to the side, curling around Engineer's in a friendly hug. The palm fronds jittered and scraped against the lacy insect wings at the other's tip.

"Am I interrupting somezhing?"

Sniper and Engineer jumped at the smooth voice. Spy leant on the doorframe, cigarette hanging loosely from his jaw, lips pulled into a smirk. The long, red, bushy bundle of hair at his back with its tips pointed in black hung down to the floor, bunched into a vague ponytail shape by a shimmering blue band of fluorite. Long lanky arms and legs were streamlined and dark red-grey, fingers replaced with long, red, razor sharp claws.

The tails uncoiled like lightning. "The hell ya doing, spook?" Sniper spat.

Spy blew a cloud of smoke out of his mouth, sharp canines almost catching the light. "Well, mon ami... mon _lézard_, I merely observed you and the libellule _coiling tails_ and smiling like idiots. I could not help myself."

Engineer frowned and Sniper scowled. "Git outta here, Spah," Engineer said, straightening his glove and stalking down the corridor. "We're _friends_."

Spy closed his eyes in a smarmy grin. Sniper pulled the cigarette from his lips, dropping it to the floor and crushing it under his heel. The embers burned something terrible, but he held his complaints. Spy did not. "What was that for?!" He yelled.

"Are leetle men having argument?" A bass voice growled.

The Zoroark whipped around fast enough so that the stone band whacked Sniper in the stomach, forcing the air out of his lungs with an _oof_. Sniper bent double gasping for breath. Spy stared at the massive red-decorated Aggron occupying most of the hallway.

"WHY ARE YOU WHEEZING? GET OFF THE GROUND, YOU- Heavy! What the hell are you doing?! Move out, private!" Soldier yelled from behind the slow giant. Something flapped, making a breeze. Maroon and navy feathers poked themselves around Heavy's frame. Sniper grunted disapproval and sucked a huge breath in, trying to reach up and get his claws around Spy's neck.

Heavy looked over his shoulder and squinted. The red, white and blue bird behind him puffed out its chest and tried to look intimidating. Up against the towering Heavy, even larger than normal, it wasn't very effective...

"Leetle man did not wake everyone up this morning," Heavy rumbled. He moved to the side a little, making a pathway for Soldier to pass. Soldier strutted right by with nary a word of thanks, looking a little ridiculous, and a slight waddle accentuating his steps. "I made rounds at 0600 hours sharp, you maggots all ignored me like the pansies you are! I then went flying over our base, and I saw nothing out of the ordinary on the BLU maggots' buildings, and then I flew straight back here and walked inside. NOW I SHALL EAT TOAST AND THE FLESH OF SMALLER, WEAKER BIRDS!" He flung his wings out, feathers poking into Heavy's face and making another gust of wind in the hallway. Spy grimaced at the blast of air and Heavy growled. "Leetle man must watch for others. Is Sniper okay?" Heavy redirected his attention to the Sceptile, who had got his breath back.

Sniper stretched backwards and patted his chest. There was only a slow, receding ache from Spy's winding. "Yeah mate, I'm awright now." His arms snuck sideways towards Spy's neck. Spy noticed the reaching hands and neatly stepped to the side, chuckling as he cloaked. "You will have to be faster than that if you with to choke me, mon lézard."

Sniper huffed and adjusted his vest. Scuffles like these were commonplace in both bases.

Heavy sniffed the air. "I smell sandvich," he said, a slow smile creeping over his face. Right on cue, Medic floated around the corner carrying two plates with two delicious sandwiches on each. "Herr Heavy, let us have breakfast," he said with a smile. He handed Heavy one and then landed on his shoulder just next to the spike.

"I love this doctor!" Heavy roared, trumping past Sniper and Soldier to go to the mess hall.

Soldier puffed up his chest and strutted out. "Food awaits!" he shouted. An overly loud complaint of "Aw crap, Sol's up!" could be heard from the kitchen.

Sniper was now alone in the hallway. Just how he liked it. A little quiet was better than none at all. His rifle needed maintenance, and perhaps he could knit a couple more rows of that sweater before the round began... He ambled towards Respawn, having left his Huntsman there, and got into the mindset necessary to prepare for another battle. He'd love to get up close, doing as much damage as possible.

... Was that unlike him? No. No it wasn't. He loved that kind of up-and-close fight.

Didn't he?


End file.
